


All's Fair

by steelcrash



Category: Transformers
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, virgin!Optimus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-29
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-11-19 19:52:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/577028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelcrash/pseuds/steelcrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After letting slip a personal detail, Optimus Prime finds himself becoming the object of pursuit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drunken Admissions

All's Fair

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

He wasn't sure how the secret slipped out. He couldn't remember much because of too much high grade, but considering the night, it wasn't a surprise. The Autobots hadn't had much reason to celebrate anything in a long time, but two events taking place relatively close together gave them a much-needed opportunity to forget the war for a few hours. The first was the arrival of reinforcements from Cybertron-Ultra Magnus showed up with his crew and the second was the birth of Spike and Carly Witwicky's first offspring.  
The appearance of old friends feared dead, new friends and the addition of a new life proved too much temptation for the Autobots who were overworked because of the construction of their new city and the ongoing threat of Decepticon attacks so Optimus Prime did what he had to and gave in, apparently in more ways than one.  
The Autobot leader remembered parts of the evening, like the normally reserved, quiet, dependable Ultra Magnus face down on the floor after the twins challenged him to a drinking game, the fiery femme Arcee threatening Ironhide and something about Bumblebee dancing on a table. But for the life of him, Optimus Prime could not remember why or when he'd opened his mouth.  
Unfortunately, the next morning, Ratchet was the first to have something to say about his verbal gaffe. The medic wouldn't wouldn't let it go until after a discussion in *his* office.  
"So. . ." Prime said, hoping to get out of what would probably be an unpleasant conversation. And he was proven right when Ratchet launched into his spiel.  
"As chief medical officer, it is my duty to see to the physical and mental well-being of those under my care. That includes you," Ratchet said.  
Prime sat back, resting his hands on his knees. Looked like Ratchet was just getting warmed up.  
"Whatever you say is just between us. Without patient-medic confidentiality, there is no trust, despite the contrary to what the twins say," Ratchet continued. "You've never interfaced? Not even once?"  
"I think I'd remember if I had. . ." Prime said.  
"You're more than 9 million years old. That's a long time, Prime," Ratchet said. "Seriously. Never? Are you sure you haven't thought about what you're missing?"  
"It doesn't matter what *I'm* missing. I've had other matters to attend."  
"Only you could make the great war sound like such an understatement," Ratchet said. "And no matter how much you deny yourself, I bet you do wonder about what you have been missing. You may be our leader, but you're no ascetic. I'm sure there's someone out there who would oblige you."  
Prime sighed.  
"It's not about finding someone who would 'oblige.'"  
"Then what? Are you afraid?" Ratchet said, leaning back in his chair, steepling his fingers.  
Prime stared at the floor. In a way, he was. The only way he'd retained his sanity over so many years was by not letting anyone get too close. Even those he considered his closest friends he held at arm's length. He enjoyed their warmth and camaraderie, but held himself apart. He was with them, but not necessarily one of them. He would die himself before he let someone die for him. He was the leader of the cause, not the cause itself, despite what any of them believed or thought. He was one of them, only he rarely showed his weakness.  
He looked up when Ratchet cleared his throat.  
"Now that we've talked about it, I'm sure you'll do something about this. . .matter," Ratchet said. "If not, it will be dealt with for you."  
Ratchet said it with a smile. The one he wore when he was getting ready to let fly with a wrench at someone's head, or work on the twins. Not good, Prime thought.  
"I'll see to it," Prime said, standing to take his leave.  
"See that you do."  
A few days passed without incident. Prime sat at his desk, looked at the chronometer on the wall, stretching. Most everyone else would be coming off shift right now, and he decided to wait, just in case. There'd been a few looks his way, a few whispers, but nothing like the furor of the first few days. He was pulled back from his thoughts by the appearance of a familiar face. Ironhide came walking in.  
"What can I do for you old friend?" Prime asked, smiling behind his battle mask.  
Ironhide hmphed. Prime always managed to get a rise out of him by calling him "old."  
"Just came to see what you're up to," Ironhide said.  
Prime shrugged.  
"So, you want to talk about it?"  
"What?"  
"The. . .your. . .uh. . .problem."  
Prime sighed, settling his head into his hands in frustration.  
"Not you too," he said.  
"Well, look, if you want some advice or something, I'd be glad to help out. Not that you need help, but. . ."  
"Ironhide, shut up while you still can."  
The red mech took a step back hearing the tone in Prime's voice. He decided to try a different tactic.  
"What about Ratchet then?"  
Prime's optics narrowed.  
"Did he send you?"  
"No, but if you don't do something about his orders, it won't be pretty. That's all."  
"Orders?"  
"Well, I figured he probably said something like that, considering how you've been spending almost all your time by yourself either here or in your quarters."  
"You've been keeping track?"  
"Not hard, when everybody's noticed."  
Prime looked up.  
"Everyone?"  
Ironhide nodded. He felt a momentary pang of guilt, but it passed quickly. Even he'd been surprised at Prime's little secret. He'd know him longer than almost anyone besides Kup and the rest of the Ark crew, in a way, it made sense. Prime had always been a little reserved when it came to some things, but Ironhide chalked it up to keeping his private life private, and now, suddenly, one of his most private details was public.  
"Want me to see what I can do about helping quiet things down?"  
"It would be most appreciated."  
Ironhide smiled, watching Prime relax, but not much. Hell, he needed it, and bad.  
The red Autobot passed Ultra Magnus as he left the office. Ironhide's promise stood-he'd do what he could to quit the others from gossiping about their leader's private life, but he couldn't stop them from making bets.  
Prime gave his other old friend a glance as he walked into the office. Ultra Magnus sat down, data pad in hand.  
"I think we need to go over a few things," he said.  
The Autobot leader's optics narrowed. Surely Ultra Magnus would not broach the subject also.  
"Go over what?" Prime asked, suspicious.  
"Just how we're going to handle the rash of insubordination in our ranks," Ultra Magnus said.  
Prime relaxed. That he could deal with. The city wasn't even near completion yet and the Ark was more cramped than before with the addition of more Autobots. It had prompted a shake-up in the duty schedule to try and accommodate the additional inhabitants to give them access to quarters, even if it was just a few hours of recharge. Some Autobots, like Bumblebee, had been more than willing. The scout was now staying at the Witwicky's; Prowl and Jazz's willingness to cohabitate had finally turned into a relationship that everyone had seen coming. Prime himself had taken to spending his recharge time in his own office, further freeing up space, much to Ratchet's annoyance.  
But back to the matter at hand. Insubordination and pranks. Easy.  
"Who this time?" he asked.  
"Jazz, Bumblebee, the twins, Springer, Hot Rod, Silverbolt, Wheeljack and Mirage," Ultra Magnus said.  
Impressive, Prime thought. More than the usual suspects, although he knew most of what had gone down, even witnessed the aftermath of the prank pulled off by the Aerialbot commander with help from Wheeljack and Mirage.  
"I understand Springer will be out of the med bay tomorrow?" Prime asked.  
"Yes," Ultra Magnus said. "Much to Ratchet's relief. He's driving him crazy, but I believe Springer will think twice again before insulting the intelligence of any of our gestalt teams, special ops or the Dinobots."  
"We can hope," Prime said. "But I think his stay in the med bay, along with monitor duty for the next two weeks should be sufficient punishment."  
"Yes. And what about the shrink wrap incident?" Ultra Magnus said.  
"Bumblebee, Jazz and Hot Rod apologized to the twins," Prime said. "And I'm leaving their punishment up to Prowl."  
Ultra Magnus nodded. "And what about the twins?"  
Prime leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms. "If you have any suggestions. . ."  
"Ran out of ideas on how to punish them?"  
"You have no idea," Prime said. "Possibly Kup can come up with something?"  
"He'll be more than happy to make some suggestions," Ultra Magnus said, standing. "Oh, there is something else. . .the next time the high grade comes out, I wouldn't play truth or dare if I were you."  
Ultra Magnus watched as his friend leaned forward, face buried in his hands.  
"So that's how. . ."  
"Everyone knows? Yes," Ultra Magnus said. "And don't worry about Ratchet and the others. I'm sure this will die down soon."


	2. Chapter 2

All's Fair. . .

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

By the next morning, Prime was able to walk down the corridor with fewer looks. The twins still gave him what for them passed as a collectively contemplative glance in the rec room as he grabbed his morning energon, and Jazz smiled more ferally than usual, but it was just a tiny goad from his third in command.. Beyond that, it was a fairly normal start to the day.

Prowl conducted himself in his usual logical, collected manner, except at one point, Prime caught his second in command humming to himself as he worked on reports.

By mid-afternoon, he'd managed to convince himself maybe things were finally going to get back to normal. But he was wrong.

The first sign was one of the new Autobots, Hot Rod, staring during an afternoon security briefing. Hot Rod was working closely with Kup, who had taken it upon himself to mentor the young mech whose name came up frequently in reports along with "insubordinate" and "disciplinary problem." Hot Rod seemed more interested in the new security protocols than an Autobot that age should, or maybe he was being paranoid. Hah, he thought. Paranoia would definitely be a new state for him.

The second was the drop-dead look of annoyance Ratchet leveled on him in the rec room early that evening when he went in looking for Prowl. The look was enough to send him backpedaling out of the rec room, straight into Hot Rod, who he nearly plowed over in his haste to get away from Ratchet. The third was the way Hot Rod's hand lingered on his arm as he reached out to steady him.

"Are you OK?" Hot Rod asked.

Warning bells went off in Prime's head as he nodded half-heartedly and practically ran the other way.

Springer, who was with Hot Rod, met his friend's gaze and shrugged.

And Optimus knew he should've sealed the door to his office when Sunstreaker walked in later that evening. The yellow twin turned a chair around, sat down, resting his arms across the back of it. Sideswipe followed, standing beside his twin, giving their leader a quizzical look.

Sunstreaker stared, and the expectant silence suddenly became unbearable as Prime wondered just what the twins wanted.

"So. . ." Sunstreaker said. "You've really never interfaced?"

It was an honest, earnest question. No malice or mocking in his tone, the gold twin merely asked it like he'd ask about the weather outside. But still. . .it took every ounce of dignity and reserve the Autobot leader had to not bang his head on the table until he went offline.

"It's true," Optimus said.

The twins shared a glance, then both leveled their gaze on their leader. Again. And under such close scrutiny from two of his deadliest warriors, he was suddenly uncomfortable.

"Is there anything else you want?" Prime asked, wanting them out of his office.

"No," Sunstreaker said, standing. "But if you need us, you know where to find us."

He watched Sunstreaker walk away, but Sideswipe lingered a moment longer, flashed him a smile, then followed his brother out of the office.

Prime raised an optic ridge. Had he just been propositioned by the twins?

"I knew I'd find you here."

Prime came out of recharge, looked up, offlined his optics, onlined them.

"You know, if you need a place to sleep, you can hide in my quarters and I won't tell Ratchet," Kup said. "Your office isn't exactly conducive to a good night's rest."

"He'll find out. He always does. I swear he has optics in the back of his head," Prime said, picking his head up off his arms.

Kup smiled.

"No, he's just good at what he does," Kup said.

"You mean tormenting me and my troops?"

Kup let it slide.

"That afraid of him, eh?"

Prime sighed.

"No. Aren't you?"

"Just afraid of what he can do. There is a difference."

"If he has so little to do besides keep inquiring about my personal life, maybe I should find something to occupy his time," Optimus said.

"Like what?" Kup asked.

"Maybe we could switch places for a couple of days. I'll be a medic and he can lead the Autobots," Optimus said.

"Ratchet Prime? Now that scares me."

"Yes. Megatron might surrender in fear," Optimus replied.

"And little pink petrorabbits are going to fall from the sky," Kup said.

"True, but the thought of Ratchet like that frightens me."

"I'll be sure to not let him know that," Kup said, pulling up a chair. "So, what is bothering you?"

"Do we have to have this conversation now?"

"What conversation?"

"Have you come to offer me 'the talk' too?" Optimus asked.

"Eh?"

"Ironhide tried to offer me advice the other day. . ."

Kup raised a hand, stopping him.

"No. If anything, I'd like to know what about this is bothering you so much. You're not afraid, are you?" Kup said.

Prime sat back in his chair, closed his eyes and sighed.

"Yes."

Later that night, Optimus laid in his quarters going over the conversation with Kup. He wasn't afraid of the act itself, but of the intimacy it required. He had never let anyone get that close to him and hadn't considered it an option in millennia. Not when so many counted on him. He also hadn't counted on Kup's wiliness and his own willingness to share such doubts he hadn't aired in almost the same time. In the beginning, Kup was the one who listened, who was there to help. And he was now. That thought comforted him. And if there was anyone left in existence who knew him as well or better than he knew himself, it was Kup.


	3. Chapter 3

All's Fair. . .

Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Skywarp was bored out of his mind. He was barely into his third hour of Autobot surveillance footage and he already was contemplating ways to end Starscream's life. Somehow, he'd ended up taking the blame for Starscream's latest brilliant idea, except Megatron was being incredibly lenient with his punishment. Although maybe their exalted leader's reasoning was that he'd self-terminate from boredom, thus relieving them of his presence.

Yeah, whatever, Skywarp snorted. He was doing Rumble and Frenzy's job for them-sifting through more than 20 hours of Laserbeak's surveillance footage from the Autobot City construction site. So far it was nothing but well, construction. Nothing interesting except the audio was the only thing keeping him online.

The Autobot Tracks was griping about how the manual labor was ruining his wax job when the equally vain Mirage changed the subject.

". . .stow it, Tracks. I don't care. We have work to do. . ." Mirage said.

Skywarp sighed. Primus, the Autobots were BORING.

". . .but did you hear what happened during the celebration the other night? Prime got a little high grade in him and told everyone that he's never interfaced before. . ."

Skywarp's optics snapped onlined and he flipped his chair. The crashing noise brought Starscream into the Nemesis' operations center.

"What is wrong with you?" the air commander asked.

"Sorry. . .didn't mean to make so much noise," Skywarp said. "My chair broke."

Starscream frowned. "Get back to work."

Skywarp picked up the chair, sat back down, rewound the surveillance footage. He listened again. And again. And again. He grinned, getting an idea. He quietly copied the good part onto a disc then deleted that section from his terminal. He 'spaced the disc, got back to work, glad he now had the only copy of that particular footage. Unfortunately for Laserbeak, he no longer had copies in his own memory after managing to get his head between Megatron and Starscream's fist during an altercation several days before.

The spy somehow thought he could protect Megatron from his second in command. Yup. That went well, Skywarp reflected, grinning. Oh how he was going to make good use of the knowledge he now had. . .

Two days later. . .

Megatron waited until the grand opening celebration of the new solar generating plant for his attack. The plant wasn't big but its energy yield was, and the fact lots of humans would be around would make for collateral damage. The battle was raging nicely but the Decepticon leader couldn't shake the feeling something felt out of place. Wasn't Starscream, he reflected as he took a shot at the Autobot second in command, Prowl, who fired back, actually managed to hit him.

He snarled in rage, fired back. No, Starscream was following orders to the letter after the beat down he'd received. Suddenly, it dawned on Megatron as he found himself receiving a barrage of fire from more than one Autobot. Three of the new arrivals from Cybertron had joined Prowl and they were actually inflicting damage.

Skywarp. Skywarp wasn't covering him like he was supposed to. Where in the Pit was the Seeker?

As quickly as his realization hit him, the Autobot weapons fire also stopped. Megatron looked down, dropped his altitude once he realized they weren't going to shoot at him, followed their line of sight.

He frowned. Skywarp. Giving a dazzling display of aerial prowess. That wasn't normal. But then again, nothing in that Seeker's processor was. Megatron watched with the others as Skywarp quickly gained altitude, then suddenly disappeared. The Decepticon leader scanned for the Seeker for several moments, then gave up. Annoyed, angry and damaged, he decided to call a retreat. He'd deal with his errant Seeker later.

Ratchet had to suppress a grin as he worked on his leader. He had to admit they owed Skywarp a debt of gratitude for drawing everyone's attention away from fighting. However, the medic's momentary glee faded as Prime jerked his arm away in pain.

"Hold still or I'll amputate," Ratchet said.

Prime glared but held stock still as Ratchet finished soldering shut the gash on left wrist.

"There. All done," he said. "Take it easy, will you? Try and get some rest."

"Is that all?" Prime asked, standing.

"Don't suppose you payed any real attention to Skywarp's antics this afternoon?"

"It was a welcome distraction from the battle, although he's probably paying dearly for it now," Prime said.

"That distraction was more than a distraction," Ratchet said, turning to put his tools away. "He's a Seeker. And I don't suppose you recognize the significance of his acrobatics. That was a Seeker mating display. Wonder whose attention he was trying to get?"

He heard a very loud crash behind him. Surely not. . .Ratchet turned around, saw his leader passed out cold on the floor.


	4. Chapter 4

All's Fair. . .

Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Prime won his argument with Ratchet, forcing the medic to let him leave the med bay. Not that he needed to stay in the med bay because of his injuries. His wrist still smarted, a little, but otherwise, he was fine, with the exception of the fuzz in his processor because of the whole Seeker thing. Maybe a little energon would help clear his head. The Autobot leader headed to the rec room, helped himself to some energon, sat down at the nearest table. He was almost in recharge when he heard quiet footsteps.

Prime startled.

"I'm sorry. . .I didn't realize. . ."

It was Hot Rod. Again. He placed a hand on Prime's shoulder in apology, again, lingering longer than Prime considered friendly. And he was gone. Just like that.

Prime sighed, wondering if he was giving off unconscious signals, or Hot Rod just wanted to lose a body part. But he was too tired to contemplate it further. He laid his head down on his arms, falling into recharge.

The simultaneous pain and noise of Ratchet's wrench hitting him in the head brought him back to the world of the living.

"Good morning, oh great and fearless leader," Ratchet snarled.

Prime snapped to a standing position, remembering where he was.

"Don't worry. There's nobody else around. It's four in the morning. And what are you doing sleeping here? Although I should be glad you were sleeping so well, considering. . ."

Prime backed away.

"Nice reflexes. Nothing wrong there. Although your mental response time is a little slow. Maybe I should make you take a few days off, as you're not following my orders."

"I fully plan on. . ."

"You better," Ratchet said, walking away.

Business as usual the next day. Again almost without a hitch. Meetings, patrol, pulling Wheeljack and Perceptor out of the lab after yet another explosion, a disciplinary meeting between Bumblebee and Bluestreak which was a completely different change of pace, getting called out to haul Blurr out of some mud someplace. Everything Optimus Prime could easily deal with, until Spike showed up.

At first, he was happy to see his friend. Then he noticed the worried look on Spike's face, and it made him think that maybe something was wrong with Carlie, Daniel or Sparkplug. But the first words out of his Spike's mouth made him realized why his friend was in his office.

"Bumblebee told me I needed to talk to you," Spike said. Honestly, he couldn't quite believe what his friend told him, but from the scuttlebutt flying around base, it sounded like it was true. But the human needed to hear it from Optimus himself. "He said he heard a rumor, and he dismissed it at first as gossip, and you know how the minibots are the biggest gossips in the universe but he heard the twins talking about it so. . .uh. . .seriously. . .you. . .you're a virgin?"

"Why is everyone so surprised when they hear it?" Optimus retorted, annoyed.

"I can't imagine why," Spike answered. "So it is true?"

The look the Autobot leader gave him was all the answer he needed.

"Well. . .can't you just maybe sneak back to Cybertron to see Elita-1 and take care of it?" Spike suggested.

"We haven't heard from her unit in almost seven months," Prime said. "They've missed the last two check-ins and I am beginning to fear the worst."

"Oh. . ." Spike said.

"Your suggestion was appreciated," Optimus said. "As would be any others you might have. Ratchet is being rather insistent I do something about this. . .matter."

"You're kidding, right?" Spike said.

"Unfortunately not," Optimus answered. "He said I should be able to find someone who would 'oblige' me."

"That's considerate of him," Spike said. "Um. . .have you thought of making a list to help you uh. . .pick someone? You should at least pick someone you like, that you're comfortable with. Look, I gotta go. I promised Carlie Bumblebee and I wouldn't be gone long. If you need to talk, just call, OK?"

Prime nodded, watching his friend leave. A list, eh?

Spike locked himself in the bathroom with his cell phone once he got home.

"Dad? Yeah. . .everything's fine with Carlie and the baby. But I think you might wanna go talk to Optimus. . .I'm new at this whole dad thing and his problem requires your kind of expertise. No, I'm not telling you over the phone. You'll have to ask him yourself. No, he's fine. . .embarrassed, but fine. Yeah, gotta go. Carlie's calling for me. Love you too. . .Bye."

Spike ended the call, opened the door. Sparkplug could hopefully offer more advice to the Autobot leader than he could.

Starscream wasn't the only Decepticon who was curious about Skywarp's display the day before. But at the moment, he was the only Decepticon who was wanting to get to the bottom of it.

Skywarp was lounging on his berth in his quarters wondering how to next proceed when the door to his quarters opened, revealing Starscream. Uh oh, Skywarp thought. He sat up, leveled his gaze on his fellow Seeker.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Just curious about whose attention you were trying to attract during the battle yesterday. It wasn't an Autobot, was it?" Starscream asked, optics narrowed, suspicious.

"So what if it was?" Skywarp said. "None of your business."

"You can't be serious," Starscream said, disgusted.

"Am I ever?" Skywarp said, grinning.

"You did that as a joke?" Starscream said.

Skywarp shrugged, hoping to get rid of Starscream, who shook his head in frustration, left the room. Skywarp grinned bigger, getting yet another idea in his head.


	5. Chapter 5

All's Fair

Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Optimus volunteered for patrol with Red Alert, just to get away from the base for a while. It went well, considering Red talked about almost every human conspiracy theory from the last 40 years. It had been interesting, and helped pass the time for what turned out to be an incredibly routine patrol. Except when he got back to his office, Prime found Ultra Magnus waiting.

"We need to talk," his friend said, in a tone that meant someone had dome something they weren't supposed to.

Prime sighed, sat down. "What is it now?"

"You're obviously stressed, and if you won't talk to Ratchet, I will. He's overstepping his bounds," Ultra Magnus said.

"Ratchet is the authority when it comes to all things medical and in those matters, his authority supercedes my own," Prime said.

"No it does not," Ultra Magnus said. "He just thinks it does. He's butting into your personal life. And you and I both know he needs to butt out. Or else."

"You wouldn't. . ."

"I've known you longer than Ratchet," Ultra Magnus said. "And I've always had your back. You know that. Even though we've been apart for a very long time, that has not changed and it never will, as far as I'm concerned. So I recommend you have a talk with your chief medical officer before I do."

"That's all?"

"That's all," Ultra Magnus said. He gave his friend a rare smile, left his office.

Prime sat up a little straighter. Ultra Magnus was right. He was Prime. Ratchet was not.

The look in his Prime's optics made Ratchet back up when his leader entered the med bay.

"Hello Prime," he said.

"We need to talk," Prime said. "Butt out of my personal life or else."

"Is that a threat?" Ratchet asked.

"Take it as you will. I will find someone to interface with, of my own choice, in my own time," Prime said. "And that is not all. I cannot just interface with anyone I choose. There is another consideration in that respect. Have you forgotten I am the Matrix-bearer? Anyone I interface with could very well find themselves carrying a sparkling they do not want."

Ratchet raised an optic ridge in contemplation. He hadn't thought of that.

"Well, I've heard you say on more than one occasion you'd like a bondmate and a sparkling or two. . ." Ratchet said.

"Ratchet. . ."

"All right. . .poor attempt at humor," the medic said. "But. . ."

"But what?" Prime said.

"You can't deny you could use a good, hard overload," he said.

Prime reached to pick up one of Ratchet's own wrenches.

"But. . .maybe I have overstepped my bounds," Ratchet said. "And for that I apologize, but I have my reasons. Almost everyone on the Ark has someone they can turn to when they need to talk, even just spend time with someone. Except you. You hold yourself apart because you think you have to stay strong because you're the leader, because you're Prime."

Optimus started to say something, but Ratchet stopped him.

"I hoped it would change when Kup and the others arrived, but you're more stressed than ever. For the love of little petrorabbits. . .two of your closest friends are here and you still hold yourself apart. And you won't even talk to Ironhide like you used to," Ratchet said.

"I deal with the pressures of leadership in my own way. . ." Prime said.

"Yeah-by not dealing, by not opening up," Ratchet said.

"I no longer have that luxury," Prime said.

"My aft," Ratchet said. "I'm not letting this go until you at least have a little fun, blow off some steam. Hell, even find somebody you like in your own damn time and overload them senseless, but right now, your stress is my concern. I'm almost to the point of declaring you medically unfit for duty. . ."

"Do it and you'll find yourself strapped down to your own surgical berth at the mercy of the twins. I will let them have their way with you medically and otherwise. . ." Prime said.

Prime grinned in satisfaction behind his battle mask as Ratchet's optics widened at such a brazen threat from his leader. Nice time to remind him of why he was Prime. . .

"I have an idea," Prime said. "If you agree to it, I will try and 'blow off some steam' as you suggest. But in my own way."

Ratchet sighed, shoulders slumped. "What do you have in mind?"

The Nemesis

Skywarp threw down the data pad on his berth, satisfied with the message he was leaving. Time to get the hell out of Dodge, as the humans said. But he was interrupted by the appearance of Thundercracker at his door.

His trine mate just walked in, glaring.

"What are you planning? Another joke?" Thundercracker asked.

"No," Skywarp said. "Finally came to my senses. And I finally have the means to get away from this place and Megatron, hopefully for good."

"You're deserting?" Thundercracker said

"More like defecting," Skywarp answered.

Skywarp didn't answer.

"Are you out of your mind?" Thundercracker said.

"Might be, but if you wanna come, better grab hold of me," Skywarp said. He started to warp and before he disappeared, Thundercracker threw himself at his friend, grabbed hold of his outreached hand, knowing that whatever happened next, he was just along for the ride.

Megatron was more than annoyed. Skywarp hadn't showed up for patrol that morning and no one could find him or Thundercracker. He had everyone searching the base, but they could find neither Seeker. And Starscream was less than forthcoming with any information he had. His air commander swore up and down he had no idea where they were.

Although at the moment, a clue arrived in the form of a data pad found in Skywarp's quarters. Frenzy handed the Decepticon leader the device.

"Looks like ol' 'Warp left a note," Frenzy said.

"Maybe he and Thundercracker ran off together?" Rumble offered helpfully.

Megatron ignored the brothers, glared at Starscream. "You better hope for your sake this is a suicide note," he said.

Starscream started to retort, but bit it back.

Megatron scrolled through the short note before throwing the data pad at the main screen, then shot at it.

"Defection? He's defective! That's what. . .that sniveling traitor will pay. . ." he said, turning on Starscream.

"I'd run if I were you," Rumble muttered at Starscream, who was surprised at the helpful advice.

"I'm joining my trine mates and if you're lucky, I might decide I'm not coming back," Starscream said, walking out of ops like he owned the place. He smiled viciously as he heard another shot from Megatron's cannon, this time accompanied by the sound of crunching metal and rushing water.

Ratchet had only a few hours left before Prime's deal kicked into place. Well, considering all other options, agreeing to Prime's idea was the best alternative open to the medic. Not that he liked the idea, although Prime seemed proud of himself for coming up with it. Ratchet did have to admit when pushed, his leader could be devious as hell and almost as scary as the twins with his creativity. Still, not exactly the type of reaction he was hoping to elicit from Prime. He knew his leader was perfectly capable of it-he'd heard stories from Kup about Optimus Prime and Ultra Magnus back in the day. The two had been hellions in their own right after Optimus became Prime, but their behavior had been their way of coping with the new pressures and responsibilities shoved upon their young shoulders-Optimus with the duties of leadership and the burden of carrying the Matrix; Ultra Magnus with becoming a soldier and for both of them, having to take lives, something that was contrary to both of their natures.

And if Prime's little experiment blew up in both their faces, he was going to kick his leader's aft.

Ratchet threw down his data pad, ready to head for his quarters, but the sight of Ironhide at the door to the med bay stopped him.

"Don't you think you've been riding Prime a little hard lately?" he asked.

"Don't go taking his side," Ratchet said.

"I'll take his side because he's my friend and you've been way too hard on him," Ironhide said. "You know he doesn't like to be pushed. He's stubborn, doesn't like to be told what to do, especially if someone else is telling him it's for his own good."

"He has a problem with authority, obviously," Ratchet said.

"No, just yours lately," Ironhide said.

"You're not going to deny an interface would do him some good. . ." Ratchet said.

"I'm not going to disagree with you on that at all," Ironhide said. "He could use it, and bad. But he doesn't need you pushing him, especially after what happened."

Ironhide glowered, but he knew Ironhide was right. Prime had gotten his proverbial aft handed to him and was still nursing a wounded pride. Ratchet knew all too well why their leader was being stubborn in this instance, and it was also why he was pushing back.

Eight months before (the exact date was etched well in Ratchet's processor for many reasons), Optimus and a few of the others had hijacked the space bridge to get to Cybertron after finding out another one of Megatron's plans. They'd kicked aft, saved the day with the help of the female Autobots, a good day. But then Elita-1 had decided to have a 'talk' with Optimus. Ratchet remembered the stunned look on his leader's face after she was done with him.

And Ratchet knew now the word the humans used, "dumped," was very apt because Optimus Prime had looked like he'd been run over by Devastator then dumped off a cliff. Also, in this case, the human phrase "letting someone down easy" did not apply. At the time (as in for about 15 minutes after), Prime had taken it remarkably well, but then Ratchet and Ironhide had had to drag their leader off by themselves, plied him with high grade until he passed out. He'd woken up with a killer hangover the next morning and then they 'jacked the bridge again to get back to Earth.

Not a pleasant few days back after, either, Ratchet reflected. Ironhide had even talked with Chromia, who had begged and pleaded with Elita to not leave Optimus, but her mind was made up. It had taken some digging on Ratchet's part but he'd managed to pry out of Optimus just why she'd decided to leave him after so long.

They had been apart for a very long time, and were both different bots than they had been in the beginning-she would not leave Cybertron and he was dedicated to protecting Earth and its inhabitants. She'd also told Prime it wasn't fair to either of them to be so far apart and expect to have any kind of relationship, especially since they had been separated for so much time. And since she'd found out he was alive, she'd found it harder and harder to carry out her own responsibilities when she was worried about him. Prime had countered that by saying if they were bonded, they would always know, but she didn't want a bond, not with him, not anymore.

"Still no word from them?" Ratchet asked.

"No," Ironhide said. "I'm worried. . ."

"I know," Ratchet said. "Do you think they pulled up stakes again?"

"Elita wouldn't be that underhanded," Ironhide said. "Chromia would kick her aft. No. . .I think Prime may be right this time. . ."

"Prime still hasn't made up his mind about sending a unit to check up on them?"

"No," Ironhide said. "And he still won't talk about getting dumped, either."

"Figures," Ratchet said, standing.

"Are you gonna keep riding him?"

"Not as hard," Ratchet said. "But I did talk to him. We've come to an understanding. For now."


	6. Chapter 6

All's Fair

Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

"Look, did you have to be so stupid?" Hot Rod asked.

Springer tried to glare, but he winced in pain as he put weight on his injured leg.

"You're not doing a very good job here," Springer said.

Hot Rod was trying his best to help his friend to the med bay. Springer had his right arm draped across Hot Rod's shoulders, trying to take weight off the leg.

"We're the same height but your aft is a lot heavier," Hot Rod retorted. "If you would have let me get some help. . ."

"I don't need any help besides you," Springer said.

"Ultra Magnus is going to have your head," Hot Rod said. "So will Prime. And if I get dragged in this time when I had nothing to do with it. . ."

"Like you're totally innocent this time," Springer said.

"I am. But you wouldn't listen," Hot Rod said. "You know Arcee doesn't like it when somebody sneaks up on her like that."

"Yeah but. . ."

"No buts. You're fessing up to Ratchet. If you don't, I'll tell him for you," Hot Rod said.

Springer frowned. Hot Rod could be annoying sometimes, like now, but he knew he was only trying to protect Arcee. They both liked her, but she couldn't decide which one of them she wanted. It formed a little triangle they'd been trying to sort out for a long time. And Springer wanted it sorted out sooner rather than later.

"Whatever you're thinking, don't," Hot Rod said. "I should just dump your aft in the med bay and. . ."

He stopped as they turned into the med bay door. Instead of the sight of Ratchet greeting them, it was someone else. The two friends shared a glance before going any further. A glance which did not go unnoticed.

"Where's Hatchet?" Springer asked, suspicious. The prank hadn't been severe enough to warrant Optimus Prime's presence in the med bay. Unless Ultra Magnus decided Springer needed sorted out before getting repaired. Oh Primus. . .Springer thought.

"Ratchet is assigned to other duties today," Prime said.

Another glance.

"Put Springer here," Optimus said, indicating the surgical berth. "What happened?"

"Arcee shot me," Springer said.

Prime raised an optic ridge, running a scanner over the injured joint. "You're lucky she didn't hit anything vital," he said.

"Tell me about it. . ." Springer muttered. Then remembered who he was talking to.

"Uh. . .should I go get somebody?" Hot Rod asked.

"I will be the judge of that," Prime said. "The injury appears superficial, but I will require a second opinion before proceeding with repairs."

Oh frag, Springer thought. Maybe she'd shot him in the head instead?

Ratchet threw down the data pad he was reading. He was in a grouchier mood than usual. Who cared about the energy yield at the dam upriver? He thought about it a minute. . .oh yeah. We do. Increased yield means more energon, which means possible Decepticon attack. He hit a few keys on the terminal, sending Prowl an e-mail to beef up patrols in the area for the next few days just to keep an eye on the place.

He picked up the pad again, frowning as he read. Great. Security briefing at 1330. That meant an afternoon of listening to reports. Reports by the likes of Red Alert and Prowl. But because he was in charge, maybe he could cancel the meeting? Ratchet smiled at that thought. Oh yes. Being in charge was good. . .then he remembered Ultra Magnus was a stickler for detail, wouldn't let him do it. Protocol.

Protocol was a pain in the aft. Protocol was why he was a medic, although protocol was out the window at the moment and he was sitting in Prime's place while the Autobot leader was playing medic in the med bay. Ratchet wondered how that was going. Maybe he'd have to take a trip down and see. But it would have to wait. He had to oversee a disciplinary hearing with the twins and Blurr.

Wheeljack did most of the work on Springer's injured leg; that was followed by Hound, who'd managed to bust his shoulder falling off a cliff. Then there was the afternoon from hell.

:Prime, ops, NOW:

Ratchet. Not good. Prime wondered what the matter was as he walked to ops, raised an optic ridge when he saw more than one Autobot with weapons drawn, aimed at. . .wait a minute what were Skywarp and Thundercracker doing in the middle of ops in stasis cuffs?

Ratchet met his leader.

"Skywarp wants to talk to you and you alone. He even asked for me to offline his weapons, which I did already," Ratchet said.

Prime shifted his gaze from Ratchet to the Seeker.

"What do you want?" Prime asked.

"I've come to negotiate the terms of my surrender," Skywarp said.

Optimus leaned back against his desk, arms crossed, optic raised in interest. Skywarp had what he wanted. He was alone with Prime, although he was still cuffed. Whatever worked, he guessed, although he wondered what it would take to get the Autobot leader into that same set of cuffs and flat onto his back. . .

"Skywarp, talk. You have two minutes," Prime said. "If this is a trick. . ."

Skywarp suddenly snapped back to reality.

"No," Skywarp said. "Not trick, seriously. We're here to surrender. I've had enough of Megatron and and his idiocy."

That was the truth. He did want out, and he continued, knowing he wouldn't need the full two minutes.

"I have a deal I'd like to work out. Prime, I know your secret. I know you've never interfaced before," Skywarp said, letting it sink in.

Prime stood, drawing himself up to his full height. He took a few steps so he was now gazing down at the Seeker.

"And how did you find that out?" Prime asked.

"Doesn't matter how," Skywarp said. "All that matters I know and I haven't told the other Decepticons. And if things work out, I won't have to. Let us stay and it stays between us. Put Thundercracker and me in the brig, but don't send us back, please. And if you like, I'll even help you with that problem. . ."

"That's blackmail," Prime said.

"I know," Skywarp said, grinning.

By the end of the second minute, Skywarp found himself dragged and tossed into the brig by Prime himself. Still cuffed, as was Thundercracker, although Prime had threatened to gag him also.

"Are you satisfied?" Thundercracker asked, kicking Skywarp.

"Hey-it's better than being on the Nemesis listening to Megatron rant or scream," Skywarp said. "Hear that? It's quiet. How long has it been since we've had quiet?"

Thundercracker had to admit Skywarp had a point. Quiet was nice, even though they both knew it was a matter of time before the Autobots decided to interrogate them or worse.

It took the twins all of a few seconds to figure out that something was wrong when they saw Ratchet sitting at Prime's desk. The moments that followed proved both medic and Autobot commander had completely lost their minds. Except it did give Sunny an idea. . .

Once they were done with the disciplinary hearing, the gold twin dragged his brother down to the med bay, where they found Prime sitting at Ratchet's desk, reading a data pad.

Prime looked up when he heard footsteps.

Sunstreaker was leaning up against the door frame, Sideswipe standing behind him, biting his lip. Not good, Prime reflected. And he was proven right.

"If you wanted to play medic, all you had to do was ask," Sunstreaker said, grinning.

Sunstreaker didn't have a chance to react to what happened next. He dropped like a felled tree when the data pad flew from Prime's hand, connected with his head.

Sideswipe looked from his fallen brother to Prime.

"You know, Hatchet isn't gonna be happy," he said. "That was his favorite data pad."

The first day was over, thank goodness, Optimus Prime thought. One more to go. Being a medic was hard work, he knew, being the leader was even tougher. Hopefully Ratchet was gaining a deeper appreciation for what it really meant to be Prime. And the day was long not just because he'd had to deal with the typical med bay chaos but everything else as well.

Prime wondered how long it would take Starscream to catch up with his trine mates and what that would mean when he did. It was only a matter of time. That thought made him want to smack his head into the wall. The other issue of the day was he'd been propositioned twice. Good thing Skywarp was cuffed and locked in the brig. Wait. . .oh dear. Had Ratchet also offlined the Seeker's transwarping ability? Visions of the Decepticon warping into his quarters unannounced suddenly made Prime panic.

:Red:

Optimus waited a few seconds. Nothing.

:RED ALERT WAKE UP RIGHT NOW:

:WHAT?: Red Alert replied.

:I want someone monitoring Skywarp 24/7. I don't care if you have to do it yourself, but I want it done. Also, if Ratchet hasn't done it already, see to it Skywarp can't transport himself anywhere. Do I make myself clear?: Optimus said.

:Crystal:

:Good: Prime said, satisfied.

The Autobot leader settled himself back on his berth, staring at the data pad in his hands. He could not believe he had decided to take Spike's suggestion to heart and come up with a list. Not that he had any intentions of carrying through with what he was thinking about anytime soon. No. Hardly. No way.

At the top of the list, just for spite, was Ratchet. It would probably be quick and methodical. And over and done quickly. But it was Ratchet. He crossed his name off.

Ironhide. No. Chromia would kill them both.

Ultra Magnus? Again, no. Ultra Magnus he considered a brother.

Jazz or Prowl. Jazz probably would oblige, but he wasn't going to do anything to hinder their new relationship.

He decided at that moment almost everyone from the Ark crew was off limits. (Almost everyone-there was Tracks, Smokescreen, Red Alert, Bluestreak and a few others he was still trying to sort out.) That left the new arrivals from Cybertron, the twins, and possibly the Decepticons.

Skywarp? Oh Primus. . .

The twins? Sideswipe maybe. Was he even really considering it? Yes. Sideswipe was fairly easy-going, laid back, had a good sense of humor. Cared about his brother and friends more than anything else in the world, with the exception of fighting.

Sunstreaker? Why am I considering Sunstreaker? Because the twins are likely a package deal. . .Sunstreaker was beautiful. Everyone always noticed that first. That and his narcissism. But he was more than that. He was fiercely loyal to his brother, passionate in everything he did.

Springer? He didn't know enough about him besides the fact he was attracted to the femme, Arcee, who also drew an attraction from Hot Rod.

Arcee? Hmm. . .there was a possibility if he could wrest her attention from the two younger bots. She was feisty, caring, beautiful. But did he really want to get his aft handed to him again by another femme so soon?

He switched tracks to Blurr. Did Blurr do anything slow? Probably not.

Sandstorm. Again, didn't know enough about him.

That left at the bottom of the list so far Hot Rod. 'Arrogant, presumptuous pain in the aft,' which was Ironhide's description of the young Autobot. Cocky didn't cut it with Prime, although at least Hot Rod hadn't come right out and propositioned him. Yet.

Optimus sighed. Spike was right-it would have to be someone he liked, someone he was comfortable with. Not only that, but something more also. And he'd inflict serious harm upon Ratchet if he even suggested Bumblebee again.


	7. Chapter 7

All's Fair

Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Ratchet sighed. The officer's meeting was just minutes away, except Prowl was running late. Hmm, wonder why? Ratchet mused. Reason No. 1 was Jazz. Other than that every one else was there, including Jazz, Ratchet noticed. So that wasn't the reason why Prowl was running late. The medic then contented himself with looking around the conference room. It included the usual suspects from the security briefing from the day before and then some. Department heads, also. Their inclusion, Ratchet suspected, was mainly punishment from Prime because Perceptor was positively beaming with the chance to dazzle his fellow Autobots with his recent scientific findings.

At least he didn't have to give an update on medical, since he was it, and he had given everyone a copy of the latest report.

Prowl popped inside Prime's quarters. He had permission, of course. Always did, but he'd commed Prime anyway to ask permission and to find out the location of the data pad with the report he needed for the meeting. It was exactly where Prime said it would be-sitting on the shelf by his berth. The second in command activated the pad as he walked out the door, expecting to read the text of the report on the new weapon upgrades. Except this wasn't data on weapons.

Prowl's optics widened as he realized what he was reading, his other hand covered his mouth in surprise. It was a list. A list of names, with pros and cons listed beside them. If he hadn't been so surprised and running late for the meeting, he probably would have offlined because of his battle computer shorting out, but he didn't. Instead, he deactivated the data pad, took it back to Prime's quarters and set it down exactly where he found it.

He made record time to the meeting, thinking it was better to arrive empty handed than have the information on that data pad get spread around the Ark. And Ratchet would probably thank him when he found out the second in command had nothing new to report.

Ratchet scowled as Prowl entered the conference room late but Jazz couldn't help but notice something was wrong. Prowl didn't have a data pad in his hand and the normally calm, collected Prowl spent the entire meeting fidgeting, tapping his hands the arms of his chair.

Hot Rod wished he was anyplace else but where he was. Because Kup and Red Alert were in the officer's meeting, he'd been tapped for the afternoon as security officer on duty. He'd been chosen because he worked closely with Kup. Not that he minded extra responsibility, well, sometimes he did. But at the moment, he wanted to wring some necks. No one else was in ops because with most of the Ark's officers tied up in the meeting, the others decided it would be a good idea to take the afternoon off. Any other time, Hot Rod would be inclined to agree. Except right now, alarms were going off and no one he commed would come help.

And of course, Optimus Prime was off playing medic, having to go do field repairs on the twins, although if the rumors he heard were true, Hot Rod was going to have Sunstreaker's head. Anyway, back to the problem at hand, he thought.

Maybe Springer would come? Might as well try. . .

:Spring:

Nothing.

:SPRINGER, DAMN IT, GET YOUR AFT TO OPS RIGHT NOW OR THIS WILL BE THE LAST TIME YOU SEE ME ALIVE BECAUSE I'M ABOUT TO DIE AT DECEPTICON HANDS:

Seconds later he was greeted by the sound of running footsteps.

"What's going on? Where's. . ." Springer asked.

"Outside," Hot Rod said. "Everyone else has taken the afternoon off and Ultra Magnus said I wasn't to interrupt the officer's meeting for anything less than the appearance of the Chaos-bringer to teach Ratchet a lesson. . .so. . .you're my backup. Starscream is outside."

"What? You're kidding," Springer said.

"Would I kid about the Decepticon second in command being at our doorstep? Are you crazy?" Hot Rod said. "C'mon. Let's go."

Starscream watched as the Ark's blast doors opened slowly. The ground shook as they clanged home. He waited for the dust to clear, expecting at least some of the Autobots heavy hitters to greet him. He frowned, once he got a good look at the two Autobots standing just outside the Ark doors. Two of the newest Autobots from Cybertron, hardly more than sparklings. They had weapons drawn, aimed at his head.

"What do you want?" the one with the flames on his chest asked.

"I will only speak with Optimus Prime," Starscream said.

"Sorry, but you can't talk to him right now," Hot Rod answered.

"Why not?" Starscream asked, now annoyed.

Hot Rod glanced at Springer. "Should we tell him?"

Springer shrugged. "Might as well tell him the truth."

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to speak to the Autobot in charge and right now, that isn't Optimus," Hot Rod said.

Starscream was now thoroughly confused. What game were they playing?

Ultra Magnus was watching the clock as Perceptor gave his report. Who cared about black holes? Obviously Perceptor did, but if this was the kind of data given out at meetings, Prime was falling down on the job and he'd have to correct it. Plus someone kept comming him, which he ignored, trying to give Ratchet the full effect of what it meant to be in charge. He was almost ready to give in and see who kept trying to bother him when the door to the conference room slid open, revealing Springer.

The triple changer walked in without saying a word, made straight for Ratchet, hauling the medic to his feet, taking only the time necessary to spare Ultra Magnus an especially scathing look. He stood, following them out.

Once they were in the corridor, Springer let Ratchet have it.

"If you get Hot Rod killed. . ." Springer said.

"What are you talking about?" Ratchet asked, trying to get Springer to let him go.

"Starscream is outside," Springer said. "Hot Rod is alone out there with the Decepticon air commander."

Ratchet finally got it, taking off, Springer following, Ultra Magnus hard pressed to keep up. The medic and acting Prime half-expected to find Hot Rod reduced to a molten pile of slag but instead, he found him carrying on a one-sided conversation about the weather with Starscream.

"'Bout time you got your aft out here," Hot Rod said, once they were even with him. "Starscream would like to talk to the Autobot in charge."

Hot Rod's gaze met Starscream's. "Here you go. Ratchet is who you want to talk to," he said, turned, headed back inside the Ark.

"Where do you think you're going?" Ratchet asked.

"Unlike some bots, I'm not abandoning my post," Hot Rod said.

Ratchet started to say something more but he was silenced by Ultra Magnus' vice-like grip on his shoulder.

:What do you expect me to do?: Ratchet asked.

:Talk to Starscream. Find out what he wants. You're in charge. Do your job. Prime left you in charge, not me. I will not take care of this for you. If he pulls anything, Springer and I have your back:

:Thanks for nothing: Ratchet retorted.

Ultra Magnus gave him a wry smile.

"So. . " Ratchet said.

Ultra Magnus' grip on his shoulder tightened and Ratchet swore he felt the bigger mech's fingers leave an indention in his armor.

"What do you want?" Ratchet asked.

"I have reason to believe you're holding Skywarp and Thundercracker. If so, I have come to surrender," Starscream said. "I will come peacefully."

Minutes later, Megatron's second in command found himself searched, weapons offlined, placed in stasis cuffs and shoved into a cell by his two trine mates. And much to Skywarp and Thundercracker's amusement, he didn't berate them when they both hugged him.

"I'm glad to see you're both well," Starscream grudgingly admitted.

"They're treating us pretty good," Thundercracker said. "Regular energon and it's nice and quiet here."

"Really?" Starscream asked.

"Yup," Skywarp said. "Nice and peaceful. Not crazy."

Starscream raised an optic ridge in surprise. He sat down on the cell's berth. Maybe being a prisoner wouldn't be so bad after all.

Prime wanted the day to be over. He wanted back his normal routine and would gladly re-shoulder his regular responsibilities with open arms. At the moment, he was helping Sunstreaker hobble to the med bay. The gold twin had somehow injured himself out on a routine patrol and refused to answer exactly what happened. Prime's efforts to get information out of Sideswipe were also met with a dead end.

He'd had to go out and haul Sunstreaker back in his trailer, much to his annoyance. To top it off, he wasn't talking to his twin. Frankly, Prime had to admit, if Sideswipe decided to start a physical altercation with his brother, he wouldn't stop him. Hell, he might even join in. . .wait. That was an unusual sensation. Prime's own two hands were accounted for and quick glance showed Sideswipe nowhere near him. No, the extra hand currently located on his posterior must be Sunstreaker's.

"Remove your hand from my aft or I will amputate yours," Prime said.

The hand didn't come off so Prime dumped Sunstreaker in the middle of the corridor. He turned to Sideswipe.

"I will have First Aid come get him, and he can do the repairs," Prime said. "If you need anything Sideswipe, I will be in my quarters."

1830\. Jazz had been off duty about a half hour and he was expecting Prowl any minute. The third in command was dying to find out what was wrong with Prowl during the meeting but they hadn't had a chance to talk-Prowl'd been busy with searching and interrogating Starscream. Jazz's own afternoon was spent bringing in everyone who had decided to play hooky that day. The brig was a busy place and Jazz hoped the Autobots there enjoyed the company of their Decepticon cell mates. From the looks of things, it was going to be a long night.

He sighed. It was only at Ultra Magnus' urging that the truant Autobots from ops spend the night in jail. Ratchet was in no mood to argue and Jazz had no choice but to follow orders. Didn't mean he liked what he had to do, he reflected.

Not to mention Prowl would probably be agitated when he showed up so Jazz put on some Duke Ellington. It was some of his favorite music, always helped him relax and besides, once he'd introduced Prowl to it, he liked it to. Not that Prowl ever noticed music when he was worked up, but it couldn't hurt.

And Jazz was proven right when Prowl finally entered their quarters. The second in command was muttering words he normally didn't use, which Jazz's sensitive audios picked up.

"Prowler, what's wrong?" Jazz asked, meeting his mate in the middle of the room, reaching up, putting his hands on his shoulders.

"Prime," Prowl said.

OK. At least he had a starting point now.

"What's he gone and done now?" Jazz asked.

"It's not what he's done," Prowl said. "It's what he's going to do."

Prowl proceeded to spend the next 20 minutes filling Jazz in on all the details. Names even, which Prowl couldn't help but memorize, as it was a habit, and this particular list was one he'd rather forget, or so he told Jazz six times.

"Want me to talk to Prime?" Jazz asked once Prowl's tirade was over.

"You don't mind? I might say something I'll regret," Prowl said.

Jazz sat down on the berth by Prowl, throwing an arm around his shoulders, touched his helm to Prowl's.

"You know I don't," Jazz said. "Somebody needs to straighten him out. Be back in a bit."

Prowl slipped one his hands into Jazz's free one. "Thanks," he said.

"No problem," Jazz said, standing. He threw Prowl a smile.

"And I won't hurt him," Jazz said. Much.

Jazz took his time walking to Prime's quarters, sparing him the need to look for his leader. Sideswipe had gladly supplied that information. The third in command had a lot to think about, and hadn't had much of a chance in the two days Prime decided to put Ratchet in charge. It had gone well, considering. But the gossip about Prime's little problem was still running rampant. And if the bit about the list got out, Prime would never live it down. Good thing he had such a conscientious second and third in command watching his aft, Jazz thought.

Too bad he and Prowl just couldn't tie Prime to his berth and solve that whole never interfaced problem. He'd do it too, if Prowl were willing and Prime wouldn't be embarrassed, but he knew their leader probably would be. It was their job to look out for Prime and Jazz was going to do his best to do it, although not at the expense of further embarrassing him. No, he'd just have a nice little chat with their stubborn leader.

Not just about the whole interfacing thing. There were a few other things he needed to discuss with him, but they could probably wait, like duty assignments. Jazz was seriously thinking about asking to have Hot Rod and Springer assigned to special ops. The two were well suited to the job, worked well together and kept getting bounced from one assignment to another. He'd also talked to Bumblebee about it, who had already recommended Hot Rod.

Bottom of Prime's list, was he? As far as Prime was concerned, Jazz thought, he could do worse. Hell, if Prowl hadn't come to his senses, he had seriously considered taking a go at Hot Rod. He'd found once you got past the arrogance, he wasn't half-bad to be around. He did have a volatile temper, which made an appearance his first full day on Earth when he'd put Tracks in the med bay. That incident embarrassed Ultra Magnus and disappointed and infuriated Kup. Except they later found out he'd given Tracks a sound thrashing because he was going to play an especially nasty prank on a couple of the minibots. Hot Rod had earned himself a friend in Bumblebee and the respect of more than a few Autobots that day.

Except there was only one problem with Hot Rod that Jazz could see-Arcee, although he suspected Hot Rod's interest in her was waning. Huh. Arcee was also on that list. He almost considered requesting her also for special ops. She was a crack shot on par with Bluestreak but the competition for her affection between best friends Hot Rod and Springer was something Jazz did not need distracting them from duty. Luckily, Ultra Magnus had already assigned her to Ironhide since he headed up weapons.

Prime was maybe interested in Arcee? Boss bot always did like a pretty femme, and Prime was well, Prime. Strong, kind, considerate, would make any femme's knees weak. Except one. Oh, if Jazz could get his hands on Elita-1. . .

The twins? Jazz could maybe see Prime and Sideswipe but not Prime and Sunstreaker. Opposites did attract but in that case. . .

Skywarp? A Decepticon? What was up with that? He'd have to get to the bottom of that one. He would tie Prime to his berth and have his way with him if he was seriously thinking about that.

He found himself at Prime's door. Luckily, Jazz and Prowl both knew the access code to Prime's quarters. And unlike Prowl, Jazz never did have a problem with just showing up unannounced. Tended to give him an advantage when he was trying to work.

Jazz marched in when the door slid open, finding Prime sitting on his berth, data pad in hand.

"Jazz. . .what do you want?" Prime asked. Must be serious if he just let himself in. . .

"We need to talk," Jazz said. "And let me see that data pad."

Prime scowled.

"Won't work with me," Jazz said. "I know what's on it."

"What?"

"Prowl accidentally picked it up this afternoon," Jazz said. "But he put it back. And he told me all about it. You're not seriously thinking about. . .I know Ratchet's been pushing you but this is ridiculous."

"You're telling me," Prime said, setting down the data pad. "Really? You know all the names?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Jazz said. "Don't worry. Neither of us will say a thing. You know you can trust us."

Prime raised an optic ridge. "In truth, I no longer know who I can trust," he said.

"Look-it was just a little startling for everyone to find out you've never interfaced before. It's personal and your business. And everyone else needs to lay off," Jazz said. "Although I do have to tell you. . .you don't know what you've been missing."

"How can I miss what I've never experienced?" Prime asked.

Jazz grinned. "Find somebody you want and I guarantee you'll know right away," he said.

Prime sighed. "Jazz, I did have someone I wanted, and she dumped me, as the humans say," he said.

"I know. Elita's loss," Jazz said. "I know it hurt, but look at the situation as an opportunity to find someone new."

"New? I know everyone on the Ark very well," Prime said.

"You know what I mean," Jazz said. "Although those new arrivals are interesting. Arcee catch your eye?"

"Jazz. . ." Prime said.

"She is beautiful, and I doubt it would take much to pry her away from Hot Rod and Springer," Jazz said. "You are Prime, after all."

"I would hope anyone I choose would see past the fact I am Prime," Optimus said.

"Give 'em half a chance and they will," Jazz said. "Relax. You'll find somebody else. Give it time."

"Is that all?" Prime said.

"Yeah. . .almost. . ." Jazz said. "Just a couple of things, but if you want, it can wait until morning."

"What is it?" Prime asked.

"Well, if you really wanna know, I think Springer and Hot Rod would be ideal for special ops, and I was wondering if you'd approve it. They need a steady assignment and . . ." Jazz said.

"I'll make the duty change effective for tomorrow," Prime said. "That should give them less time to get into trouble. What else?"

"Well. . .me and Prowler. . .we've been talking. . .you know we're sharing quarters now and we've been. . .we want to bond," Jazz said. "But we're your officers and if we bond and something happens to one. . .if you say no, we're all right with it. We've already talked it over. . ."

"Jazz, I would never deny anyone under my command the opportunity to bond," Prime said. "And I gladly give you my blessing. I wish you both nothing but happiness."

Jazz's smile lit up the room.

"Thank you," he said. "I'll tell Prowler."

He turned to go, but stopped. "Listen, if you ever need to talk you know you can talk to us," Jazz said. "Doesn't matter about what or when."

"Thank you Jazz," Prime said. "Don't keep Prowl waiting."


	8. Chapter 8

All's Fair

Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Carlie Witwicky wasn't stupid. She knew something was bugging Spike, had been since he and Bumblebee came back from the Ark several days before. And now that her mother and aunt had finally left, she intended to find out what was going on. Thankfully, Daniel was asleep and she could dedicate a few minutes to grilling her husband.

She waited until she felt him slide into bed beside her, gently scooted up against her, spooning, kissing her on the shoulder.

"'Night," Spike said, settling against his wife.

"Spike Witwicky, you're hiding something and I want to know what it is," Carlie said.

She felt him move, hiding behind her, resting his forehead against the back of her shoulder.

"I'm not hiding anything," he said.

"You're a terrible liar," Carlie countered. "Is something wrong at the Ark? You haven't said a word about how things are going. . ."

"Everything's fine, I just didn't want you to be bored to tears and besides, you know how your mom feels about the Autobots so I thought I'd wait to tell you. . ." Spike said, trying to deflect her interest.

"Spike. . ."

"OK. . .it's a guy thing. You wouldn't be interested," he said.

"I just spent the past nine months carrying your son, spent 20 hours in labor and endured an emergency c-section and you're not going to tell me one little detail?" Carlie said. "It's clear something's bothering you, and I want to help."

She heard him sigh, felt him move his head until his chin was resting on her shoulder.

"It's about Optimus," Spike said.

Optimus? What could be wrong with Optimus? Carlie thought.

"Is he all right?"

"Fine," Spike said. "Mostly, just a little embarrassed."

"About?" Carlie asked.

Another sigh. And this time he kissed her neck, trying to distract her.

"Spike. . ." Another warning.

"All right, all right," Spike muttered, burying his head in the crook of her neck. "Optimus is a virgin."

"What?" Carlie asked, not sure she heard her husband correctly.

"You heard me. Optimus. He's never interfaced before, and the others are giving him hell about it. That's why we went to the base the other day, so I could talk to him," Spike said.

"And what did you say?" Carlie asked.

"I told him. . .well, Optimus said Ratchet was pushing him to take care of the problem and I told him that if he was going to do it, he should pick someone he likes and is comfortable with. . .and maybe he should make a list."

Carlie showed her husband what she thought of his advice with an elbow to the stomach.

"Seriously. . .you didn't?" she asked.

"I did," Spike said. "I wasn't suggesting that he just go pick somebody and get it over with, but that when he's good and ready a list might help. . ."

"Tomorrow, you're taking me out there to talk to him," Carlie said.

"Honey, the doctor said you need to rest," Spike said, trying to change her mind.

Another elbow. "OK. Tomorrow it is," Spike said.

Spike paced with Daniel, who wouldn't go back to sleep, so Carlie could sleep. He sighed. This whole dad thing was more tiring than he could ever imagine, but it was worth it, so far. He wasn't exactly relishing another trip out to the base so soon. The new arrivals had him on edge, mainly because they were so unfamiliar. And a few of them were damn annoying, like Ultra Magnus.

A cross between the worst parts of Prime and Prowl on steroids. One of Optimus' closest friends. He was a stickler for protocol and details and organization who was also driven near insane by the presence of unpredictable organics. Also, Ultra Magnus' first introduction to humans hadn't gone well because Perceptor had launched into a long, graphic description of how human reproduction worked when the green one, Springer, asked why Carlie was so fat.

The old one, Kup, wasn't so bad, neither was the female, Arcee, nor the other one, Hot Rod, who had treated Carlie's condition with near reverence after coming to a quick understanding of just how perilous a human pregnancy could be. Spike would never forget how that moment had prompted her to wonder why her own husband couldn't get it when the just arrived to Earth giant robot did. Oh yeah-that also brought about the whole deal where Hot Rod swore to be a protector to their unborn offspring. Nice. He hoped Danny would like having an Autobot for a big brother because considering how difficult Carlie's pregnancy had been, Danny was probably going to be it.

Oh well. And poor Optimus with everyone running around talking about him behind his back and then some. His friend never got a break. War, the burden of leadership, getting dumped. He wished now that Optimus was free of Elita-1 he could find someone nice, who would appreciate him. Hell, Spike wasn't so dense he couldn't get that. Humanity was lucky to have someone like Optimus Prime on their side. Why couldn't his own people get it?

Starscream was bored. Skywarp and Thundercracker were taking advantage (again) of the chance to recharge longer than usual. If nothing else, being an Autobot prisoner was giving them the chance to recuperate from long years of Megatron's madness and short supplies. Except there was one thing still bothering Starscream. Just who had Skywarp's mating display been for?

Certainly an Autobot. Otherwise, they would't be sitting in an enemy cell. And where one Seeker went, his trine mates followed. Not exactly willingly, either. Starscream kept going over all of the Autobots in his mind, trying to figure out who caught Skywarp's fancy. Not the crazed medic, hopefully. Prime? Probably not. None of the others seemed to fit, either. There was also one name Starscream refused to consider. Skyfire. If it was Skyfire, he'd kill Skywarp himself. That was an easy decision to make, Starscream thought, settling back on his berth.

Prime released the Autobots from the brig serving time for truancy. Ultra Magnus was a little overzealous when it came to punishment, but his friend thought protocol was lacking around the Ark. Not so, Prime thought. They were his troops to command and they knew their jobs and did them well. Sometimes things did get sideways but it was needed. Otherwise, they'd all go crazy and things could be worse. Just look at the Nemesis.

Smokescreen, Blurr, Mirage, Gears, Tracks and Powerglide all filed by, grumbling at having to stay the night next door to a bunch of Decepticons.

"Could be worse," Prime said. "You could have had to share the same cell."

Mirage gave his leader a dirty look, which Prime ignored. Instead, he was glaring back at Skywarp, who gave the Autobot leader a lascivious grin.

"Skywarp, wipe that grin off your face," Prime said. "Just for that, I'm giving you to Red Alert to interrogate."

The grin faded just a little.

Kup and Prime stood in the security office, watching on a monitor as Red drilled Skywarp for information. The Decepticon was complying, much to Prime's annoyance. Not that Red would get rough with a prisoner but a little intimidation never hurt. And he wasn't about to lock himself alone in a small place with that particular Decepticon. Instead, he was content to watch from afar.

Kup broke the silence.

"You know, if I didn't know better, I'd swear Skywarp was enjoying himself," Kup said.

"He's not the most logical of beings," Prime answered.

"No, but he has to have a ulterior motive for surrendering," Kup said.

"Yes, possibly," Prime said, feigning ignorance.

Kup's optics narrowed. He was suspicious now but let it slide.

"Maybe we should have Skyfire go visit Starscream. I'm sure they'd love to catch up," Kup suggested.

"You're evil," Prime said. "But it is a good idea."

"I'll get on it," Kup said.

The glint in the human female's eyes made most Autobots get out of her way. Carlie Witwicky was going to rip a certain medic a new one. She was loathe to leave Daniel for any amount of time because she hadn't gotten much of a chance to spend time alone bonding with her newborn between her hospital stay, family and everything else. But the occasion definitely called for it. Even Spike had the sense to split once they hit the door to the Ark, although Bumblebee was walking beside her until they got to the med bay entrance.

"I can take it from here," Carlie said.

"Have fun," Bumblebee grinned.

"Oh I will," Carlie said. She walked on in, finding Ratchet at his desk, muttering over a report.

Carlie cleared her throat, prompting Ratchet to look up.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you still be on bed rest?" Ratchet said.

"I should be but I'm not because I'm here to talk to you then I'm going to see Prime," Carlie said.

"I'm no expert but you should be at home with that new baby," Ratchet said.

"You are not going to tell *me* what to do and you certainly should not be telling Optimus he needs to take care of what you consider a problem," Carlie said.

Ratchet smacked his forehead with his hand. "Prime and I have come to an understanding about that," Ratchet said. "Come to think of it, maybe I should apologize again."

Carlie raised an eyebrow. "You're not pushing him anymore?"

"Push? Pull? Drag? Order? He won't listen to me," Ratchet said. "And he hasn't even done anything about just trying to relax. Even that would be enough. No, I'm not pushing."

"Good," Carlie said. "Because if you try it again, I'll find the biggest Autobot I can and I'll make sure they kick your aft into orbit."

Optimus gave Carlie a much warmer greeting. Then again, he always did have a weakness for femmes, human or Cybertronian.

"Spike told me he had a talk with you," Carlie said.

Optimus sighed. Not her too.

"And whatever advice he gave you. . ." Carlie said.

"He meant well," Optimus said.

"I know," Carlie said. "But if you need advice or someone to talk to, I'd be willing to listen. I know it's not much, but. . ."

"Your presence here offering support is much appreciated," Optimus said. "And I do not plan on doing anything about my. . .problem anytime soon."

"Plans have nothing to do with it," Carlie said. "Although I was wondering. . .what about Elita-1?"

"We are no longer together," Optimus said.

"Oh. . ." Carlie said. So, he'd gotten dumped. Ouch. That explained a lot. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"If you had offered when it happened, I would have taken you up on that offer, but not now. That chapter of my life is closed. Elita made her choice and it was not me," Optimus said. "I have no choice but to move on."

"Have you talked to her about maybe patching things up?" Carlie said.

"No," Optimus said. "She was very resolute about calling it quits. And I have to concur with her observations-we are both no longer the same as we used to be and our responsibilities have lead us down different paths."

"I'm sorry," Carlie said.

"So am I," Optimus said.

Carlie smiled. "If you need anything, call or drop by," she said.

"I will," Optimus said, watching her go.

Arcee was reluctant to talk to Prime. She hadn't known him long, but he was the Autobot leader and the most logical bot to talk to. Ultra Magnus wouldn't be much help because his familiarity with all of them slanted his perspective. No, Prime was it. He could provide objective advice, hopefully.

She knocked on the door frame to his office, even though the door was standing open.

The Autobot leader looked up when he heard her knock, his optics lit up with a smile that was hidden behind his battle mask. Momentarily, Arcee wondered what that face looked like, why he kept it masked.

"What can I do for you, Arcee?" Prime asked, setting down the report he was writing.

"I'm sorry to bother you, sir, but. . ."

"Arcee, you don't have to call me sir. Prime or Optimus will do," he gently chided.

"Well. . .Optimus. . .it's about Hot Rod," Arcee said.

Prime resisted the urge to smash his face into the desk. Of course. The biggest disciplinary problem on base was almost always the problem. Why, just once, couldn't Arcee come to his office because she wanted to see *him*?

Arcee watched as the blue optics suddenly turned steely. Was that jealousy or was she reading him wrong?

Prime leaned back, gripping the arms of his chair. "What," he asked. "Did he do now?"

From Arcee's reluctance, Prime bet Hot Rod had probably done or said something inappropriate regarding her. And if he did, well, he'd teach the runt a lesson in how to properly treat a femme. . .

"That's just it," Arcee said. "He hasn't done anything."

Prime raised an optic ridge. If she was hinting that the cocky little brat hadn't made move on her and she wanted her leader's advice, well, she was in the wrong place.

"Explain," Prime said.

"He's behaving himself," Arcee said. "I mean really behaving himself. I tried to talk to him about it but he blew me off. This is Hot Rod. Not that he shirks duty or anything but he can, you know, be a pain in the aft. . ."

"And you think he could be up to something?" Prime asked.

"Yes," Arcee said. "Or maybe he's just trying to make a good impression. I don't know. Sometimes, with Hot Rod, it's hard to tell."

"Would you like me to talk to him?" Prime said.

"No, not yet," Arcee said. "I just thought you should know."

"I'll keep an eye on him," Prime said.

Being a gentleman, Prime stood to escort Arcee out of his office. But before he could, he found himself suddenly engulfed in a hug from the femme.

"Thank you," she said, moving her hands from around his big frame to grab his helm. She then planted a kiss on his cheek.

"You're welcome, I think," Prime said, watching her go. Then he noticed there was another bot standing just outside the door to his office. Springer. The green mech stood there, glaring, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, looking like he was going to kill someone.

"Can I help you?" Prime asked.

Springer frowned, took off down the hall in the opposite direction from Arcee. Prime shrugged, going back to his reports.

Ironhide watched Springer's progress on the firing range. He was impressed with the triple changer's scores. Springer was hitting every target dead on. Except Springer wasn't thinking about how impressive his performance was. He was imagining with each shot that made contact with the head or the middle of his target's chest it was Optimus Prime. Making a move on his girl, was he? Well, he'd just see about that. . .

Hot Rod he could deal with. They considered each other brothers. They both cared about Arcee but lately, Hot Rod's pursuit of her was waning. If Hot Rod lost interest and Arcee just happened to choose the other option, himself, Springer could live with that. He just wanted the thing among them resolved. But Prime? Not fair. And from the sound of things in their leader's office, well Springer would just have to put him in his place. He didn't care Optimus was Prime. As far as he was concerned, just another Autobot.

Kup spared Arcee a smile when she walked into the security office. Fortunately for her, Red Alert was on his break so they could talk freely without the threat of an interrogation.

"Hiding from the lads?" Kup asked.

"No," Arcee said. "There's something I want to ask you."

"Ask away," Kup said.

"It's about Optimus. . .I was wondering. . .why does he keep his face masked?" Arcee said.

Kup shrugged. "Always has," he said, trying to deflect the question. He knew the answer, but if Arcee wanted to know, she'd have to find it out for herself.

"You really don't know?" Arcee asked.

"Well. . ." Kup said. "It's not my place to say."

"OK," Arcee said. "Well, I have another question then. Optimus and Elita-1. . .are they bonded?"

"Never were," Kup said, trying to get back to work.

"Really?" Arcee said. "Are they still together?"

"Not anymore," Kup said.

"Thanks, Kup," Arcee said, walking out of the office.

Kup watched her go. Arcee? Interested in Prime? Uh oh. He sat back. This could be good or bad, depending on the situation. Good if she chose to give up on Springer and Hot Rod and let them get back to being friends. Also good if she decided she wanted both of them, forming a trine, if they'd accept it. Trines among the Autobots weren't unheard of, just didn't happen much anymore. Her interest in Prime could be bad because it could lead to bad blood between best friends and also if she did manage to get Prime interested and it didn't end well.

Arcee's presence among the all-male Ark crew inspired two types of behavior: their best or their worst. Among most, their best because they wanted to make a good impression on the lone femme. Some their worst because they hadn't been around a femme in so long they'd forgotten how to act around one. Fortunately for Arcee, she was a tough cookie and could put almost all of them in their place. And she'd been through a lot, then again, those few of Ultra Magnus' unit that survived had been also. Arcee deserved happiness but if she was interested in Prime, Kup wouldn't be surprised if someone got their aft handed to them. And he didn't want to see that happen.


	9. Chapter 9

All's Fair

Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

It was late. Prime was sitting at the desk in his quarters, signing off on the duty roster for the next three days, which he'd given Jazz and Prowl off. Doing the roster was the least he could do for them and he only regretted he could not spare them more than a few days so they could adequately celebrate their bonding. No one knew yet but he knew the two were going to announce it the next morning, Friday, before they took off for parts unknown. Prime smiled. They deserved it, and each other. Took them long enough, he reflected.

He stretched. Time to turn in and Friday promised to be a long day. The new duty assignments were done and no doubt Ultra Magnus would give him grief about it. Also, there would probably be another celebration. He groaned at that thought but again, he wasn't going to deny his Autobots a chance to celebrate something happy, even if Prowl and Jazz wouldn't be there. No, they could have another party next week when they came back. Hell, he'd bring the high grade himself. Prime grinned at that thought. Yes, he'd do it. Just for spite to piss off Ultra Magnus and Ratchet.

He was just settling himself on his berth thinking that happy thought when his door chimed. Who could it be at this hour unannounced? Prime stood, activated the door. It slid open, revealing Arcee. Eh? Was he hallucinating?

"Is everything all right?" Prime asked.

"Yes," Arcee said. "I just wanted to say good night."

At this hour, Prime thought?

"Err. . .good night," he said. "Are you sure everything is fine?"

"Just fine," Arcee said, stepping inside his quarters, taking a look around. Spartan. No decoration. Completely functional and uninteresting. So unlike the Autobot standing in front of her. Arcee had to admit he was a fine-looking mech. Big, but he was strong, considerate, kind, wise. And so very unlike a couple of Autobots vying for her affection. At least worth checking into.

"So. . .how's the new assignment working out?" Prime asked.

"It's going well," Arcee said, sitting down on his berth.

If Prime was human, he would've passed out from choking.

"No one giving you any problems?" Prime said.

"Besides Gears saying a femme shouldn't be allowed to fight, none at all," Arcee said. "But Ironhide took care of it."

Oh yes. Prime had heard about that one. They'd made Gears a target and let Arcee use him for practice. He hadn't been hurt and the necessary point proven, so no disciplinary action was taken. But if it happened again. . .Primus. A femme. In his quarters. Sitting on his berth. A femme with more curves than a mountain road. . .

He smacked himself in the forehead. What was he thinking?

Arcee, sensing something was wrong, stood, going over to Prime.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Fine," Prime said. "Just remembered something. . ."

"Well, it sounded like you hit yourself pretty hard. Let me take a look," she said, pulling him toward the berth, making him sit.

She pulled his helm down, trying to get a better look, running her fingers over the part he smacked.

"I don't see a dent, but maybe I should call Ratchet," Arcee said.

Prime grabbed her hands. "No," he said. "No Ratchet. I'm all right."

"You're tense," she said. "Your energy field is positively buzzing. You need to relax."

She pulled one of her hands from his, reached up to his neck, finding the node she was looking for, started to gently rub it. He did relax, a little. But not for long.

"Arcee, thank you for dropping by, but I've got a long day ahead of me tomorrow and I'm sure you need your rest too. . ." he said, standing, leading her toward the door.

"Good night," Arcee said, waving, giving him a smile.

Springer hated having quarters down the officer's corridor. Considering the alternative, he was lucky he was sharing quarters with someone he liked. He and Hot Rod were sharing the quarters Jazz vacated when he moved in with Prowl. The could have been separated and forced to share with someone else but Jazz gave them his old quarters, mainly to spite Ultra Magnus. Springer grinned at that. Ol' Magnus was currently sharing quarters with Ratchet. Except "sharing," in their case, didn't apply. Ratchet had taken to sleeping in the med bay, letting Ultra Magnus have his quarters until they got something else worked out. But still, being bunked up next to the leadership was annoying.

He was just coming of monitor duty, wanting recharge. He knew Hot Rod would probably be out cold so he'd have to be quiet. Springer sighed. Oh well, he thought as he rounded the corner. But he stopped when he heard a door down the hall slide open. Optics widened when he saw who it was leaving and he realized whose quarters they were leaving. And luckily, they were headed in the opposite direction. He waited until Arcee was completely out of sight before he entered his quarters.

Springer made for Hot Rod's berth, shook him awake.

"Whu. . .Spring, everything OK?" Hot Rod asked.

"Have you seen Arcee tonight?" Springer said.

"Not since the rec room earlier tonight. Tracks taught us how to play poker," Hot Rod said. "Then she said she was going to her quarters. That was about 2300."

"Seriously, you haven't seen her since?"

"No," Hot Rod said earnestly. "I stayed in the rec room until about midnight and Prowl stopped by for a bit wanting to talk to both of us but since you weren't here, he said it could wait until morning. Spring, what's this about?"

"Nothing," Springer said. "Go back to sleep."

Hot Rod stared a minute, then lay back down. He wasn't lying. Springer knew that. Hot Rod was a terrible liar. Maybe Arcee hadn't been in Prime's quarters all that long but still. . .Prime's aft was his.

Starscream immediately came out of recharge. The energy signature of the Autobot standing outside his cell was very familiar. Skyfire.

"Enjoying watching me recharge?" Starscream said.

"I came to see how you are," Skyfire said.

"Fine," Starscream said. "Although I find the accommodations somewhat lacking."

"Be glad you haven't been returned to the Decepticons," Skyfire said.

"I am," Starscream said. "Being here is better than having to endure another second with Megatron."

"I'm glad to see you're finally starting to come to your senses," Skyfire said. "If you continue to behave well, I might see what I can do to have you freed."

Starscream had no reply. He barely had the wits to nod back at Skyfire as he left.

Barely 9 a.m. and already discipline was slipping more than usual. Optimus sighed. Prowl and Jazz's announcement was, of course, greeted with the expected enthusiasm. And he'd already granted permission for a party that night, complete with high grade. Also, considering how everyone was acting, Prime thought giving them the day off was a good idea. Well, almost half a day off. Duty shifts were to end at 1300 although anyone caught with high grade before that evening could expect to spend the night in the brig with their Decepticon compatriots.

Without high grade his head was still reeling from the night before. Arcee. In his quarters. Maybe she was becoming interested after all? Hopefully. Maybe. Or not.

"Are you all right?"

Optimus' head snapped up and he found Ultra Magnus staring, concerned.

"Everyone keeps asking me that. . ." Prime said.

"Well. . ."

"I'm all right. Tired but all right," Prime said.

"Are you sure about these assignments?" Ultra Magnus asked.

"More than sure," Prime answered. "Jazz himself asked for Hot Rod and Springer. Bumblebee made the recommendation to Jazz and I trust both their judgment. As for Blurr and Sandstorm, they're both fine with regular patrol for now. And Arcee said she is settling in well with her assignment."

Damn Ultra Magnus for fighting him on something simple like assignments. They were best friends but why couldn't he find someone else to pester for once? By Primus, two of his other closest friends had just gotten bonded, half the base, he was sure, was already partaking of insubordinate activity and why was he sitting in his office taking this? He was Prime.

"I think I'm going to go surrender to Skywarp," Prime said. He stood, leaving his office, leaving Ultra Magnus staring.

Kup knew something was up the instant he saw Springer. The triple changer had fire in his optics, making the ancient Autobot wonder just what Hot Rod had done this time.

"What's the matter, lad?" Kup asked, concerned.

"Have you seen Prime?" Springer said.

"No," Kup said. "Not since the briefing at 8:30."

"Thanks," Springer said.

Kup frowned. Prime? Not Hot Rod? Wait. . .why wasn't Springer on duty? He knew they'd both gotten the assignment they wanted-special ops, so why was Springer running loose looking for Prime? Didn't matter.

:Prime:

:What is it?: Optimus asked.

:If I were you, I'd avoid Springer at all costs: Kup said.

:Why?:

:Whatever you've done, he's gunning for your aft: Kup answered.

Prime stopped, thinking. Springer? Gunning for him? Why? He hadn't done anything. . .Oh. . .he couldn't think. . .yesterday. . .Arcee. His office. He'd seen Springer in the corridor looking like he wanted to kill someone. Seriously, he couldn't think that. . .that he'd done something. . .like interfacing with a femme he barely knew, in his office, when he was on duty, and with the door open? Yes, from the way it sounded, he could and did. What was he going to do now?

He couldn't hide in his quarters or his office-those would be the first places Springer would look. Yes, hiding was a good idea. Or he could just explain but he doubted in his current state of mind, Springer wouldn't listen to reason. No, better to find a place to lay low so Springer could cool down a little.

Organizing a supply closet wasn't the way Hot Rod envisioned his first special ops assignment. He was doing the work because he'd been ordered and it needed to be done. No use in complaining, either. He'd busted his aft to get assigned to special ops and he would continue to do so to keep the assignment. Except he thought Ultra Magnus was more than a little gleeful as he told him what he was going to spend the day doing.

Thanks to Kup, Hot Rod had the necessary organizational skills to set the closet to rights. Didn't mean he had to like the assignment, though. He sighed. Hot Rod understood the need to work his way up to big assignments but this ridiculous. He couldn't even get one small break. Springer was supposed to be helping but he hadn't shown up.

The young bot knew he could complain, but what was the point? He'd wanted special ops and got it. He had been working hard since his stay in the brig, making sacrifices to get what he wanted. Sacrifices like less time with Arcee and his best friend, no time to spend looking around their new home. No, instead, since coming to Earth he'd thrown himself into whatever assignment he was given, glad for the chance to learn from the best, because the Autobots from the Ark represented the best Cybertron had to offer. Not that he wanted to become an officer or a leader. Hardly. The Ark crew had done something most Autobots from the war hadn't-survived.

Hot Rod knew Kup's lectures were starting to sink in (not that he'd admit it, but his conduct lately was proof) and he hoped he was doing the ancient bot proud. But back to the work at hand. Ugh. The worst supply closet in the Ark. At least Mirage had taken the time to explain how to work the door. When it was opened, it was best to leave it open because if one got locked inside, it could only be opened from the outside. Or if one was willing to wait, the manual override could be used from the inside after one hour. The spy had even shoved him inside to prove the point, then opened the door. And oh yeah-it got even better-the supply closet was used to store chemicals so it was shielded. If you got locked inside, you couldn't comm anyone.

He was about to stand and take a break when the light from the corridor was suddenly blocked. Then he heard the door slam. And then the mountain blocking out the light fell on top of him, pinning him to the floor.

Hot Rod got a hand free, tried to shove the mech off him but to no avail, so he decided to try another approach. If it was a Dinobot, he'd be slagged, but he didn't care.

"Get. Off. Of. Me." Each word was punctuated with a punch to the rib struts.

The mech's weight came off him but since he couldn't see, Hot Rod started to sit up but ended up back on the floor when his head made contact with the other's helm.

He cussed in Cybetronian, not caring. It hurt.

"Hot Rod?"

Huh? He knew that voice. . .Optimus?

"Uh. . .sorry, Optimus, sir," Hot Rod said.

"Where are the lights?" Optimus asked.

Hot Rod snorted. "There are none," he said.

He heard metal on metal, scooted away, hoping his leader didn't trip over him again. Hot Rod had no desire to get flattened by that frame again.

Then he heard the sound of metal being beaten.

"The door can only be opened from the outside now," Hot Rod said. "Or if you can wait, in about an hour the manual override can be used. The door is broke."

That sounded familiar for some reason, Optimus thought. He sighed, leaning his head against the wall. Oh yes. He would be stuck in that closet. The one where Jazz liked to drag Prowl.

"What are you doing here?" Optimus asked finally.

"Organizing the supplies here because someone thought it needed to be done," Hot Rod said.

"Who?" Optimus asked.

"Ultra Magnus. I guess he's been going over every nook and cranny of the Ark to see what can be improved," Hot Rod said. "Lucky me."

"Remind me when I get out of here to have a little talk about that with him," Optimus said.

"Uh, sir," Hot Rod started.

How many times did he have to tell them not to call him sir?

"Call me Optimus or Prime or anything but sir," Optimus said.

"Yeah. . .I'll remember that. Optimus," Hot Rod said. "What are you doing here? You're not hiding are you?"

Prime didn't answer.

"Has Springer been feeling all right lately?" he countered instead.

"Yeah, I guess," Hot Rod said. "He was acting kinda funny last night and he was pretty tight lipped this morning when we found out we got assigned to special ops."

The young Autobot didn't mention Springer was supposed to be there with him.

"And what of Arcee?" Prime asked.

Hot Rod shrugged. "Haven't seen her since last night," he said.

Another sigh. What the hell was going on?

"Look, if you want, I can see if I can use my saw blade to cut the door open," Hot Rod said. "But I'll warn you know-it could go badly because this closet is used to store chemicals."

"Non-volatile?" Optimus said.

"Yeah, fortunately," Hot Rod said.

"Be my guest," Optimus said.

He heard Hot Rod standing, felt his frame brush by his own. Hot Rod felt the other Autobot pull away.

"You don't have to worry," Hot Rod said. "I know how to keep my hands to myself, unlike some Autobots."

At that, he retraced his right hand, revealing his blade. He set it against the lock, hoping it would cut through the material. Sparks flew but he didn't make a dent.

"No offense," he said, "but this ship is a fraggin' mess."

"Tell me about it. . ." Optimus muttered.

Hot Rod raised an optic ridge, pulled up a crate, sitting down. Might as well be comfortable if he had to wait it out.

Optimus, on the other hand, was growing more impatient with each passing second. Maybe he could just knock the door down? He ran his hand along the wall, using the sensors in his palm to try and find a weak spot. He did the same with the door and its hinges. Nothing. But maybe a good, hard whack would take care of things.

"Stay where you are," Optimus said.

Hot Rod had not intention of moving.

CLANG

More Cybertronian profanity, this time from Prime.

"That sounded like it hurt," Hot Rod said.

Flippant little runt. . .Optimus thought.

"What do you think?" he retorted.

"I told you there's no getting out of here for a while," Hot Rod said.

"Will anyone come looking for you?" Optimus asked.

"Maybe, if they remember where I'm at and what I'm supposed to be doing," Hot Rod said.

More silence.

Optimus began to fidget.

"What are you doing?" Hot Rod said.

"Nothing," Optimus said.

"If you want to talk, talk, otherwise, shut up. I'm going to take a nap," Hot Rod said.

Impertinent, arrogant punk. . .Hot Rod needed a good aft-kicking. Too bad there wasn't enough room in the closet and a good reason. . .

"What the hell are you thinking? They can probably feel that energy field of yours on the Nemesis. Whatever you are thinking, stop it. It's giving me a headache," Hot Rod said.

Fist balled. Just give me a reason, Prime thought. Think happy thoughts. Jazz and Prowl's bonding. Arcee on your berth. Baby petrorabbits.

"I can still feel that energy field," Hot Rod said. "By Primus, can't you do something about that? Like go see Ratchet or something? There's no wonder the crew here is running around half-cocked all the time if that's what they're picking up from you. Try and relax."

Try and relax? What'll relax me is kicking your aft to the Nemesis and back. . .damn, Ironhide was right. And what was Kup thinking? Hot Rod? Potential? The human hell would freeze over first. . .and once freed, Prime fully intended to cross Hot Rod off his list.

More silence. Except after what seemed like an eternity (Prime would later liken it to the deepest, darkest level of the Pit), they heard the soft click of the lock releasing. The Autobot leader stood, grabbed the release and practically ran when the door opened. Hot Rod followed him out.

Down the corridor, neither saw Skyfire and Perceptor round the corner. Skyfire raised an optic ridge, seeing who it was exiting the closet. Perceptor, however, engrossed in his data pad, did not see.

"Perceptor, I believe my optics are malfunctioning," Skyfire said, grabbing Perceptor's arm. "Please escort me to the med bay."

Perceptor didn't look up when his course was changed. He merely did as asked.


	10. Chapter 10

All's Fair

Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Skywarp had his cell to himself. Skyfire had gotten permission to take Starscream outside for a walk and Red Alert was having another go at questioning Thundercracker. He was bored, sort of. The old Autobot, Kup, had given him a data pad full of Cybertronian literature to help take the edge off. Military history, mainly. Good reading, even though the slant was toward the Autobots.

Whoa. Who was that coming his way? The energy signature was positively vile. The Seeker's optics widened when he saw it was Optimus Prime.

"Come to check up on me?" Skywarp said.

"You wish," Prime answered.

"You know, I could feel you coming a mile away. You should do something about that energy field," Skywarp said. "I could, if you want. Not much, but it would help. C'mere."

Prime backed away from the cell.

"I don't have to touch you. It just involves synching energy fields," Skywarp said. "Nothing naughty about it."

Prime sighed, stepped toward the cell again. "Try anything. . ."

"Yeah, like that'll happen," Skywarp said. He offlined his optics as he concentrated on synching their energy fields, then trying to syphon off some of the excess energy from the Autobot leader's frame. Seconds later, Prime watched as Skywarp's optics onlined.

"Feel better?" Skywarp asked.

"Yes, somewhat," Prime said. "Thank you."

Skywarp watched Prime walk away. The Autobots were a strange bunch.

Ultra Magnus sat in ops, bored out of his mind as well. Wheeljack had provided some break from the boredom a while before, dropping by to ask his opinion on several new weapon designs. They were all impressive, so he'd given the go ahead for the engineer to work on them all. Couldn't hurt, could it?

Now, he was wondering what Arcee wanted. Surely she had something better to do on an afternoon off than spend it with him? Not that he minded. She was intelligent, caring and beautiful.

"Hello," Ultra Magnus said as she sat down at the station beside his.

"Hey," Arcee responded. "Ultra Magnus, I was wondering. . .you've known Optimus a long time. . .why does he keep his face covered?"

What? Ultra Magnus wondered to himself, but he recovered quickly.

"He always has," he said. Not completely a lie, but his friend had since being rebuilt into Optimus Prime.

"Oh," Arcee said. "Thanks."

He watched her go, frowning. Ultra Magnus knew Optimus Prime could count on one hand the number of living Cybetronians who had seen his face. They were Kup, himself, Ironhide, Elita-1 and Ratchet. He knew well the reason why, too, and he would never tell anyone. It was Prime's business. And even though Ultra Magnus had not seen the face beneath the mask in a very long time, he knew it as well as his own. It was the face of Orion Pax, only older, wiser, a face he'd once heard Elita-1 call beautiful.

And Arcee was wondering about it? Well, it would take a hell of a lot for Prime to reveal his face to anyone.

Prime found himself voluntarily walking inside the med bay. He figured he should get his hand looked at because now that he could actually feel it, it did hurt. Not that he would have admitted it to that insolent punk Hot Rod. He had some dignity left. Damn door anyway.

Ratchet looked up when he heard footsteps. And he dropped his wrench when he felt Prime's energy field. It fit exactly what the humans called a "black mood."

"I obviously need to get you fixed up," Ratchet said. "What have you been doing anyway? When was the last time you recharged?"

"Just a couple of hours in the past three days," Prime admitted sheepishly. Work and Arcee's appearance were the main reasons.

"And what did you do to your hand? Wait-I don't want to know. Sit down," Ratchet said. "You're going to take a nap while I work on that hand."

Prime frowned when he saw Ratchet reach into a drawer, pulling out a device he'd never seen before.

"Lay down and I'll explain what it is while it works," Ratchet said.

Prime complied.

"It's an inducer," Ratchet said, laying it on Prime's forehead below his helm. "It's to knock out mechs during routine medical procedures. That's all. Less harmful than putting someone completely under."

"Oh," Prime said, already drifting into unconsciousness.

Ratchet smiled. It was partly the truth. In actuality, it was used to put out sparklings and younger Autobots without the stress of putting them fully under. He'd been having to use it lately on Blurr for repairs because Blurr didn't sleep and there was no other way to get him under. Well, he did sleep, sort of-micronaps of about 30 seconds to one minute several times a day.

Satisfied his leader was now taking a nice, pleasant nap, Ratchet offlined the sensor nodes in Prime's arm, cutting off most of his feeling, but he knew he'd have to be able to let Prime feel something when he got to work on the damaged finger. The medic looked at the hand, the scan telling him what his optics already had. The first two knuckles on the right hand were smashed and the cable (akin to a human ligament) on the first finger was sliced almost completely through. No wonder his energy field was so dark. Between a lack of recharge and ignoring the pain. . .stubborn pain in the aft, Ratchet reflected, picking metal fragments out of the wound.

Hands. Ugh. Re-attaching them was work he didn't mind, but fingers, knuckles, the more delicate stuff drove him nuts sometimes (mainly because he had to do so much of it because of the resident science bots). Oh yes, those and optics.

A magnifying lens slid down over his right optic so he could better see to pull out all the fragments in Prime's wounds. Damn, Prime was stubborn. . .but Ratchet really did have his leader's best interests at heart. And his method of trying to get Prime to at least acknowledge the interfacing issue had backfired. Hard. Nine million years was a long time (although admittedly, four million of them were spent unconscious, but still). . .the medic sighed. Then he realized he had his leader out flat on a berth. Did anyone know where Prime was? Probably not. Better be responsible and let someone know, Ratchet thought.

:Ultra Magnus, I have Prime here in the med bay for minor repairs. He's going to be here a while, so I hope you don't mind keeping an eye on things in ops:

:No: Ultra Magnus replied. :I'm already in ops doing just that:

:All right:

Springer checked Prime's office but the Autobot leader wasn't there. Wasn't in his quarters either, nor the observation platform on Lookout Mountain, ops or any place else he'd looked. And the triple changer was well past annoyed. Never mind he'd bailed on his first special ops "mission," but cleaning out a storage closet wasn't something he deemed worthy of his time. Hot Rod would cover for him. They always looked out for each other, so Springer knew he could count on his friend.

He strode down the corridor to his quarters, angry he couldn't even find Arcee. If she was with Prime. . .

Springer didn't finish the thought. Damn it, why had they even bothered coming to Earth anyway? Not like adding their small number to the Autobots on Earth would make much of a difference. He'd come mostly out of loyalty and friendship to Hot Rod and not to mention Arcee. Damn Hot Rod, also. It was his fault they'd ended up joining Ultra Magnus' rag tag band all those years ago. Before, it was always just the two of them, watching each other's backs, keeping each other alive. They were two of the last survivors of the Autobot colony Circini III, holding out against the Decepticons and anyone else who invaded their home. The shuttle that landed one day proved to be too much of a draw for more than just two errant young Autobots.

The Decepticons holding the colony decided to see if the shuttle occupants had anything useful they could take and the two Autobots decided to take advantage of the chaos to try and settle a few old scores. Unfortunately, Springer ended up getting separated from Hot Rod. Oh, how Springer remembered that day. He thought Rodi was dead after the smoke cleared. He couldn't find him, couldn't get a response. Might as well have been dead, too, if Kup hadn't found him.

While Springer was grieving for his friend and trying to find a place to hide, Kup and Ultra Magnus decided to take the opportunity to recruit Hot Rod (guilt and repairs . Didn't take much to convince him to sign on, that there wasn't much of their home left to defend and they could give him a chance to make a real difference. Those were the magic words. Of course, Springer was glad to find out later Hot Rod was still alive, had been less convinced of Ultra Magnus' motives. Hot Rod had bought into the propaganda, which he'd also been spoon-fed, as the humans said, the same line by Arcee. And between Hot Rod deciding there needed to be more to life than just strafing Decepticons for fun and being told by a beautiful femme he was wasting his life, Springer had never had a chance to say no.

Not like he ever would have left Hot Rod. They'd been through too much together for that to happen. And Arcee. He'd follow her to the Pit and back. But Earth? Yes, even Earth.

Now he was stuck on the mud ball with a bunch of crazies while their leader tried to steal *his* femme. He'd find Prime. After all, the day was still young and Springer could be calm when he had to.

Sideswipe walked with his twin down the corridor containing the officers quarters. It'll probably be the last time I'll see Sunny alive, he thought as he watched Sunstreaker casually short out the keypad to one particular door.

Luckily, the door didn't open on the first attempt but Sideswipe knew his brother was not going to give up so easily.

"And what are you hoping to accomplish with this?" Sideswipe finally asked.

Sunstreaker looked up from his work, which was ripping wiring out of the open control panel.

"Trying to find something to give us an edge on the competition," he said.

"Competition? That's what you see this as?" Sideswipe asked. "This is Prime we're talking about. Our leader. Our very revered, beloved, respected leader. The Prime, bearer of the Matrix, the protector and life-giver of our people."

Sunstreaker stopped, giving his brother a look Sideswipe new very well. The one that said 'Sides, I love you, but you're wrong, as usual.

"You make it sound like I'm trying to do something evil to someone like the human Pope," Sunstreaker said. "I just want to get him to relax."

Sideswipe grabbed his twin by the arm, trying to haul him away from Prime's door.

"Then help get him drunk off his aft tonight," Sideswipe said. "Offer to talk or something he likes, not something you like. Just try to be a friend and he'll relax. But I know you. That's not all you want."

"He needs it and you know it," Sunstreaker said.

"Yeah, maybe he does but if you're going to keep pursuing this, you can count me out," Sideswipe said. "It's been nice knowing you."

He walked away, didn't need to look back to know that Sunstreaker was still trying to get the door to open. Sometimes, it sucked having to be the responsible one. . .

An alarm went off in ops. A very quiet, small alarm. Ultra Magnus stood, going to check it out. Looked like the afternoon was going to be anything but uneventful.

Sunstreaker was running codes trying to get the door to open, but to no avail. Damn thing was old, but like everything on the Ark, all it needed was a little convincing to work. Except he didn't know that most of quarters down the officers' quarters were exceptionally secure, especially this room.

So engrossed in his mischief was Sunstreaker that he didn't hear Ultra Magnus' approach, didn't notice he wasn't alone until he felt the big hand close over his shoulder. He jumped, turned around, fearing the worst. Prime he could have dealt with but not the huge Autobot staring him down. His energon ran cold as he spoke.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" Ultra Magnus asked.

Sunstreaker couldn't manage a response has he was dragged to the brig.


End file.
